Detached
by adoringgreys
Summary: Mirabelle finally learned to cope with her parent's tragic deaths. After two years of tears and medication, she has finally received some closure. But then, things start to change. What is her previously deceased parents, aren't exactly, "deceased"? (Hint: Robin and Regina are the parents.)


The heavy, hot tears leaked out of her baby blue eyes. The world was spinning and her thin legs wobbled. Everyone stared; everyone. They helplessly watched as she collapsed onto the hard wood floor, dejected, swollen with emotion, and screaming. She screamed until her lungs ached for oxygen. She screamed until her voice was raspy and the faint sounds escaping her plump pink lips just sounded like whimpers. Her good, fragile heart throbbed against her rib cage. With every breath she shook. Her body wracking with sobs.

She could hear voices all around. None of them saying anything important. With every intake of air, when her body was gathering itself together for another outburst, she would hear hushed voices saying things like, "we are so sorry. We're here if you need us," and "stay strong."

Yet her conscious was blocking out the majority of all the commotion. To be truthful, she didn't know how long she could keep crying for. But with this emptiness slowly filling her chest and crushing her heart, she didn't want to stop.

Every shaky breath felt like daggers in her throat. Her vision was blurry and her throat felt like sandpaper. She licked her lips and attempted to take a another deep breath.

A recollection of all their times together suddenly covered her mind like the 2011 Japan Tsunami covered Japan. It was so overwhelming; all of it. She was supposed to have more time with them. However, here she was.

Driven to despair, she pulled her legs up to her chest and lowered her head to her knees. Raven locks cascaded in front of her swollen face, covering her misery like a curtain. Her aching body rocked back and forth. A memory of someone special rocking her to sleep after a nightmare, found its way to the front of her mind. Oh, what she would give to have those strong, yet comforting arms around her one more time; the smell of pinecones filling her nostrils.

Another smell, still familiar, yet very different, caught her attention. Her head whipped up and the source of the smell made her get on her knees and start crawling towards her older brother, with arms outstretched. He engulfed her in a warm hug. She buried her face in the crook in his neck and felt moisture on her face.

Henry had been crying too. She just tightened her hands around his neck and squeezed tighter, making her olive-toned skin turn a pure white. His heart was beating a million miles per hour and his breathing rigid and heavy against her scalp.

Everyone was still there; just staring and waiting for their que to leave. It took her a moment, but she realized that someone else had joined the embrace her and her brother shared. A vanilla, spice smell hit her like a truck and she came to understand that it was her god mother.

Emma was holding the children, tightly; as if literally trying to keep them from falling apart. It worked.

She basked in the feeling of comfort. Welcoming warmth fought a war with the chills in her chest. Emma's golden tresses covered her like a blanket. One by one, the family (they were all related somehow) joined in.

They each hesitated. Wishing to give the broken child time to calm herself. Nonetheless, time was what she didn't want. She wanted to be comforted. So with her eyes still closed, and head cradled in Henry's neck, she waved them over.

Soon enough, the middle of the living room spotlighted a sight that would warm anyone's heart. That was, however, still not the case for the young girl trapped in the center. As realization hit her once more, she felt extremely claustrophobic; wanting to escape. So she did.

Not physically. Physically, she stayed rooted to the spot with Henry's arms keeping her from going anywhere. However, mentally, she had vacated her hollow soul.

She was no longer the beautiful girl, who has the most breath-taking blue eyes, and deepest dimples. Now, with every glance into those dark blue orbs, your entire body would tremble. They were empty and filled with guilt, regret, sorrow and heartache. Mirabelle was no longer present. And everyone knew that.

Red, frizzy hair, blocked her view of the clumped forest. Mirabelle sighed and glared at the old cricket. He had interrupted her yet again.

Archie quickly cleared his throat and readjusted himself in that old armchair that squealed under his weight. Its ugly faded orange color, matched the man's hair perfectly. The brunette released a chuckle at all the sarcastic comments she came up with, for that situation.

"Look, Mirabelle, we've really made no progress at all," he paused to scratch his head then continued, "I know I said I'd give you time, but it's been years."

He locked eyes with her and she felt as if she was going to break down at his last words. It had been years; two in fact. Well, two tomorrow. Maybe Archie knew that. Was that why he was suddenly forcing her to talk? That or impatience. Which was most likely not the case considering he had sat in that same chair for an hour, every Tuesday and Thursday, for the past two (almost, not quite) years.

"Yes, I'm aware," she answered with a hint of annoyance in her rich voice, "Emma promised we'd spend the day together. Since Henry has exams all week and can't make it home, Roland said he'd join us," she knew he really didn't care but there was still 27 minutes remaining on the clock. Might as well make the most of it.

A smile grew on his wrinkled, pale face, stretching from ear to ear. It almost looked sincere.

"That's wonderful news. It'll be good for you," he winked then let out a little snicker as he said his next line, " _all_ , of you. Maybe this will help Roland as well. How has he been?"

Through gritted teeth, which were caused by the fact that the ginger was so happy on this dreadful day, she choked out, "fine."

Archie looked taken a back but continued with the small talk.

"You really are like your mother, you know that?"

He didn't give her time to process the question before continuing, "she was an amazing woman. Regina had a big heart and loved all of you so dearly. It's a shame she can't be here with us to this day. You father as well. You definitely got your mother's fire but your father's kind heart."

Mirabelle looked down making sure her thin, lanky wrists, were covered. Guilt caused her stomach to twist in knots. A lump formed in her throat. Before she could react however, and confess to what she did, Emma came walking in.


End file.
